


High Scores

by ShadeDuelist



Series: TrossiDuelist stories [6]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4661637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeDuelist/pseuds/ShadeDuelist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Handerson doesn't really like his new job as a pyro for Builder's League United.  Sure, he knew what the job would mean, but his teammates are less than amiable and his enemies are horrible.  But just when he thinks 'it could be worse', in waltzes one of his colleagues: Lander Yansson.  A ten-year veteran with the company, he's clearly addled by it: a heavy drinker, a smoker, a drug and sex addict...  James doesn't really like him.</p>
<p>Then again, when nobody but Lander seems amiable and invites you for a drink to unwind, you take it.  No matter what comes from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Scores

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trossidevil](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=trossidevil).



> First of all a great thank you to my dearest friend and greatest inspiration trossidevil - half of this story is hers, since James Handerson and Kevin from BLU and Mason Quillen as well as Jarrod Dangerfeld from RED are products of her juicy imagination. On the other hand, Lander Yansson, Patrick Loriat, Eileen Reilly and Samantha Tennant from BLU and Gabriel Dantan, Quinten Sondren as well as Teresa Hernandez from RED are mine, all mine.
> 
> SO not safe for work due to, in no particular order *clears throat gravely* pyromania, self-harm, addiction, violence, dubious consent, sexual intercourse of the male-male variety, depression, grievous injuries, mercenaries, and all variations thereupon and therebetween. *breathes in deeply* Enjoy.

James Henderson didn’t like it one bit.  He’d only come onto the team in the year before, after the death of the old pyro of the BLU team, tempted into their employ by promises of keeping him hidden from his past, and already he’d found more than he’d bargained for.  A spy with a habit of slapping around their scout, a murderous sniper that seemed to get off on using his big ‘knoife’ on whoever he could, a sadistic ‘medic’ that seemed far more interested in hurting people than in healing them… he considered it a wonder that he’d made it so far alive.  The company, too, hadn’t really given him much to work with: they’d basically shoved the flamethrower into his hands and dumped him on the base’s doorstep.  It had made for some awkward introductions, one of which had ended him up sleeping on top of an ice bag to make sure he wouldn’t get to start the next day with an eye that had swollen shut.

“Stupid bloody pisshead soldier…”, he muttered, looking around the room he sat in again, hearing the previous pyro talking beyond the plain white door and hearing distant footsteps in the hallway, but nothing more.  It was a bland room in a bland building, colored blue from top to bottom - it _irked_ him, the way the company felt like it _had_ to reinforce their polarity, their diametric opposition to RED and the eponymous color.  “...Stupid bloody pisshead _company_ …”, he muttered, shaking his head.

“Careful there, pal, don’t let ‘em hear ya say it.”, came the offhand comment from his right, where a man stood leaned against a wall, smoking a cigarette that gave off an acrid smell.  Contentedly, the man inhaled the smoke, allowing it three full seconds of swirling around in his lungs before exhaling a plume of it in the direction of the desk James had also passed on his way in from the elevator.  “Mmmm… it’s true, ‘course, but if they catch you sayin’ it, you could lose a lot more than your job, rookie-”

“Hey, who are you callin’ a rookie, you bloody tosser?!”, James flared up instantly, causing the man to grit his teeth and take another drag from the cigarette in anger, getting up into James’ face and speaking to him, each word making another whiff of the acrid-smelling smoke hit the pyro’s face, making him feel slightly woozy and causing him to realize that the cigarette wasn’t just an average, smelly cancer-stick, it was laced with some sort of drug.

“You, and ya _are_ a fuckin’ rookie, bet ya ain’t even been long enough on the team to dare and jerk off in the showers yet.”

“The hell, you wanker?!”, James said, trying to push the man away only to find him immobile, the grip the other man had on the armrests of his chair unbreakable.

“You need to _loosen the fuck up_ , tightass.”  Just as suddenly as the man’s anger had flared, it was gone again: grinning, the other man pushed himself upright again, taking one final deep drag of his cigarette and swirling around the smoke contentedly in his lungs again before exhaling in a lengthy sigh, this time through his nose.  “ _Mmmm yeah_ … loosen up, pretty-boy!   There’s no reason to be so fuckin’ uptight… we’re all getting raped up the ass dry by the company anyway, might as well enjoy the ride… so, rookie, what’s ya name?”

“Could you just _not talk_?”, James asked, and the other man rolled his eyes.

“Still uptight as all hell… no matter, if ya don’t learn this year, then maybe you’ll get wise next year.  _Loosen the fuck up_ , man…”  He looked longingly at the door and then sighed again deeply, looking around for a magazine.  “Jesus, I’m getting uptight now ‘cause of you, kid… fuck, I need a drink to take the edge off…”  James meant to point out that there wasn’t a water cooler in sight on the entire floor - he’d spent half an hour trying to locate one before, having resorted in the end to drinking water from the bathroom tap just so he could quench his sudden thirst - but then, the pyro produced a small bottle of spirits from his pocket and downed it in one, smacking his lips and grinning.  “Oh yeah, _that’s_ the stuff… mmm, good…”

“How would you know it’s good, it’s not like you _tasted_ any of it.”, James reacted despite himself, causing the other man to grin up at him.

“Oh look, _it talks_ …  Well, rookie, I know it’s good because _I don’t buy the bad shit_ , and I _did_ taste it, just not for long.  Liqueur wasn’t made for burning in your mouth, son, it was made for burning in your _stomach_.  ... _Mmm,_ tastes like lemonade if ya ignore the taste of the booze…  So, I’m gonna ask you again, rookie, do you got a name?  Or am I gonna have to call you babyface or pretty-boy all day?”  The man grinned, and James relented, figuring it’d be less hassle if he gave in.

“James Henderson.”  He didn’t offer the man his hand, but that didn’t seem to deter him from just taking it and shaking it.

“Lander Yansson, pleased to meet ya.  Don’t mind the scars, comes with the territory.”  James hadn’t yet noticed the man’s arms, but now that he mentioned scars, he checked the other man’s arms over and saw the crisscrossing lines and blots where intense burns had been sustained.  Not all of them looked like they were sustained in battle, either: some of the scars were too neat, too straight, and some of them were grouped tightly together in a way that was definitely not coincidental.  However, the other pyro seemed to realize his thoughts and changed the subject of the conversation airily.  “Sooo, how long, rookie?”

“How long what?”, James asked, growing annoyed again - he felt tense, and then the other man spoke up drily.

“How long since ya got a lay - you could use one.”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me, you tosser?!”, the British pyro reacted sharply, to which the other man laughed loudly, clearly inebriated, before shaking his head.

“Pfehehe, I make it a habit not to fuck around so I ain’t kiddin’, Jamesie!  But since you’re so uptight, let’s say I meant how long since ya joined up.”  James could’ve sworn he heard the man say something like ‘damn wuss’ but favored the talk marginally more than he favored waiting in silence and cursing out the company, risking getting overheard by the Administrator.  His answer felt like an admission, he found.

“...About ten months since I got dumped on the doorstep.  You?”

“Ahh, been fightin’ with the company for about ten years now, give or take-”

“Ten bloody years?!”, James reacted, looking the man over, once again remembering his many scars, and faintly wondering whether his own arms would look like that in nine years’ time.  “How do you manage that without going absolutely bonkers?”, he asked, and Lander snorted.

“Ya don’t.  I’m fucked up as they come, James-”

“Yeah, the miniature booze bottle did give that away already.”, James spoke deadpan, causing the other pyro to grin broadly and produce _another_ one from his pocket, drinking it much more slowly and indulgently before licking his lips in a clear attempt to absorb even the last droplets of liquor into his system.  “Just a question, ‘s the drinking for the job stress, or are you just an addict?”

“I’m nowhere near pissed enough yet to answer that, rookie.  Besides, didn’t your momma told you that you oughta buy a guy some drinks first before askin’ his life’s story?”, the other man answered somewhat enigmatically, sighing contentedly as another rush of alcohol clearly overtook his system and made him relax in the chair some more.  It clearly took away his inhibitions as well, or most of them, because he started lazily shaking a small pouch that gave off a telltale rattle from inside.  “...Ahh, it keeps fuckin’ itching…”, he groaned, causing James to roll his eyes.

“Should’ve known you’d be fire-crazy…  That fucker, Mason, from the RED team I have to fight, he’s got it too-”

“Heh, yeah, my RED team’s pyro, Gabriel, ‘s got the itch too… well, that one, and a couple of others he likes sharin’ with me…”  James looked at the other man in surprise, disbelief clear on his features because the white-haired man chuckled and licked his lips, leaning forward in his seat as he spoke a more quiet continuation: “ _Yes_ , Jamesie, I _am_ bangin’ my ‘enemy’.  Not just their pyro, too - their sniper and their demoman feature at times too.  Think I got Bree to make off with one of them a couple of times alone as well, hehe… Ahh, happy fuckin’ thoughts…”, he sighed, leaning back again and stretching in his seat as if to chase fatigue away.  “God damn it, they said three, why do they even bother mentioning an hour if-”  Just as he meant to speak on, the door opened and a surly-looking man wearing all blue exited, sparing neither of the other pyros a look as he walked down the corridor.  After him, a somewhat skittish-looking man with a clipboard exited.

“James He-”

“ _Hold the fuck up_ , they said they’d have my talk at _three_!  _I’m_ next and I don’t give a rat’s pest-ridden ass what that goddamn clipboard of yours says!”, the other pyro boomed out, pushing James back down into his seat, which caused him to glare at the man that had just waltzed in.  The man with the clipboard looked like he was looking for the proper words to tell the man off and get James inside as clearly was the plan, but then an authorative voice issued from inside the room.

“Mister _Yansson_ is next, Trevor, or he’ll light the waiting room on fire.”

“See?”, the other man said with a broad grin, chuckling when James gave an incredulous look at the door leading into the interview room.  “Aw, don’t worry, Jamesie, it’ll be quick, and after that you can go in there and blow ‘em the fuck away, okay?”

“...M-mister Yansson, are you high?”, the assistant asked as he allowed the white-haired pyro to pass, and the last thing James heard before the door closed was the man’s reply.

“ _‘Course_ I’m fuckin’ _high_ , how else do ya think I sat in there makin’ small talk with mister Henderson instead of bangin’ Dante in my hotel room?!  What kinda question-”  The door mercifully closed then, and James found himself staring at it, wondering what to think of the other pyro.  For a man that had warned him against speaking out too loudly against the company, he acted all flippant about the fact he regularly shared at least casual sex with someone of the opposite team - and for a man that had a high-end position, he was just about as unfit as they’d probably get.  Then again… maybe all pyros were like that, James mused, scratching his head.  The man that had exited seemed normal enough - a surly-looking man with ash-grey hair and matching eyes, scarred from the tip of his nose to the point of his chin - but since he was new, he knew no other pyros yet.  And he suddenly got the feeling that there were a lot of things he didn’t know, such as the way the man could bring up his affair with _the enemy_ so casually or the looks the man had been giving him.  There had been clear interest there, a hunger that James found disgusting if he was honest, but the pyro’s joking question came to mind again and he groaned.  The truth of the matter was that the last lay he’d had was right around the same time as when his life had turned upside down, which had by then already been more than a year ago.  And, admittedly, he hadn’t really given that fact much thought until just now.

“Oh, next thing you know, I’ll start thinkin’ that bloody sod’s _onto something_ when he says I should loosen up…”, James said, turning his attention back to the wall opposite him but finding that a very difficult mission to undertake.  In the end, he did what he knew was wrong: silently, he tiptoed over to the door and leaned close, hearing the voices of the people sitting inside.

“-you’re still in your liaisons with misters Dantan, Stewart and Reeve from RED?”  The voice was undeniably the Administrator’s, and she sounded _very_ matter-of-factly about the man having sexual relationships with _three_ of his enemies, but Lander’s reply cut off any further thought he could have.

“Yep.  Beats burnin’ the base to the fuckin’ ground, don’t it?”

“And on your own team?”

“Theo - mister Mundy - and Benjie, our scout.  Finest pieces of ass the base has, and they’re all mine.”  James half expected the Administrator to lose her temper with the man’s lewdness, but she merely asked her next question.

“We must ask, mister Yansson: are any of them… more than casual?”

“Well, if ya ask me if I’m _in love_ with any of ‘em, then no.  I only screw ‘em.  Or, in Dante’s case, screw ‘em and talk with ‘em.  I like the guy, he’s like _me_.  Hardly relationship material, he’s got issues I don’t even wanna think about, what with his mom and his runnin’ away, and his conviction…  I’m lucky I didn’t get _that_ fucked over by life…”  Then, the white-haired pyro chuckled and added on: “Ya want me doin’ the STD tests again, huh?  Okay, okay.  Tomorrow then instead of the battle test?”

“You’re not exempt from the battle test, mister Yansson, you’ll participate in it just as the others will - misters Henderson and Loriat as well as misters Dantan, Quillen and Sondren.  No, your on-site medic will perform the tests.”

“Thank the fuckin’ lord.  Sigi’s an okay guy.  I _hate_ the doctors you got in here, bunch of fuckin’ pricks.  Always so upset about an innocent ciggie-”  A soft rattle and a sound like tearing paper betrayed that the man had lit a match, and then a deep exhale a few seconds later proved that he’d lit up another of the treated cigarettes.  “ _Mmm yeah,_ doesn’t beat a good hard fuck but ya take what’s available-”

“Mister Yansson, w-would you mind-?”, the nervous assistant from before spoke up, but the Administrator clearly shook her head in a nonverbal bid to get the man to back down.  It gave the BLU pyro the chance to speak up again.

“You, as well as that scrawny piece of ass out there waitin’ for his turn, both need to loosen the fuck up and learn to _live_ a little.  We’re all gonna die anyway, so what’s the harm in a little fun while we’re on this god-forsaken piece of shit earth?  ...So, my lady, got any _serious_ questions you wanna ask now that I’m basically mellow as all hell?  Lay it on me, before I’m trippin’ so high I can’t even answer anymore-”

“Tell me about the pyromania.  How many fires did you light in the past year?”

“Pfeh, lost count at a hundred.  Sometimes none for weeks, always too busy fuckin’ around or being stoned, wasted, or otherwise high off my ass… but sometimes I light three or four a day.”

“The cutting?”  Now, finally, the pyro seemed to become hesitant, James noticed, his reply evasive at the very least.

“...My medical records are _right fuckin’ there_ , you know how it is.  ...I hide it from most of the guys but Sigi an’ Dante know, they _always_ know.  Gabriel… doesn’t like seein’ me bleed, so I try not to do it.  But I’m fuckin’ weak, you know?”  James bit back a groan and went back to his seat, shaking his head.  The scars on the man’s arm, the neat little thin scars, were self-inflicted.  A man that ran away in pain and pleasure.  Would that be _him_ in ten years’ time?  But then, he shook his head and pushed the fear aside.  The man was an addict and a pyromaniac, none of which he was, and none of which he intended to become.  He wouldn’t be as weak.

He would never become like that man.

 

In the evening, James found himself walking back inside the hotel after a particularly great dinner.  The company paid his meals so he’d splurged and had eaten a three-course meal at an Indian restaurant where the curries tasted even better than the ones he was used to at home.  The food had been enough to lighten his spirits already, and the glass of wine or two he’d enjoyed while eating had certainly helped get his mind off the unpleasant encounter he’d had that afternoon.  However, now, when he’d barely set foot into the hotel lobby again, that encounter came back to the forefront of his mind with a vengeance when he spotted his fellow BLU pyro again.  Only this time, he was standing right at the elevator, deeply kissing a freakishly tall man with blonde hair.  James groaned and rolled his eyes, which in turn caused the tall man to turn to him and give him a glare.

“Hey, connard, ya don’t like seein’ two grown men enjoy a kiss, then _walk the fuck away_!”

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay, he’s the uptightie I told ya about, the newest member of the BLU Flamer Club.  Kid can’t help it.”  To James’ surprise, the man sounded more sober than he had been before, though not completely so - and his calm words calmed the other man down in a heartbeat.

“Bien, okay, Lander, j’te revois ce nuit?  Après que t’as soûlé-”

“...Mmmmaybe…”, Lander drawled, kissing the other man deeply for a second before detaching and breathing out seductively to his lover: “ _Better be ready for me, Gabriel…_ ”  Blinking, James stared hard at the giant of a man.  Gabriel, Lander had called him, which meant that this man was the RED pyro that he regularly fought as well as slept with.  There wasn’t the slightest trace of enmity between them, or even hard feelings about having to kill one another by day and screwing around by night.  Instead, the blond pyro looked happy, grinning and nodding at Lander before adding in a whisper that James nonetheless still caught.

“...Better not fuck yourself out elsewhere, Lander, j’ai si envie de t’baiser fort…”  Then, he turned to James and gave him a glare that completely contradicted his previous heated exchange with the man that now walked over to loop an arm around James’ shoulders: “You better not try anything, connard, or I’m rippin’ you several new ones tomorrow in the fuckin’ battle test!”

“I don’t want-”, James started, but the man had already turned away and stomped into an empty elevator, the doors of which closed and left James standing next to Lander, who clapped him on the shoulder, grinning like none of the previous exchanges had happened.

“Heyy there, rookie!  Got any plans for the night?”

“Uh, none that include you?”, he tried, but as he had expected the other pyro didn’t give up without a fight, causing James to sigh and speak before Lander had a chance to.  “...Okay, sure, you can come - but I wasn’t really planning on anything until you and your _enemy-slash-lover_ waltzed on into my evening-”  Like he’d done before with the other man, Lander spoke soothingly to James, his calm tone making his aggravation with the other man just flow out of him.

“Gabe can’t help it, he… I’m the only one he’s got.  The others are purely fucks to him, but me?  I’m _special_ , ya know?  Since I know what he has to fuckin’ go through…  ...Soooo, you wanna grab a drink?  Or two?  Or maybe ten?”  James contemplated saying no to the offer, especially since the other pyro’s threat had to mean there was a _reason_ for him to be jealous, but then he remembered the sour face of the third BLU pyro, whom he’d met in the restaurant, and he shrugged. He’d had plenty of time to contemplate it, and he figured that turning out sour like that other man was not an option either.

“A couple of drinks are gonna do me good, yeah.”

“That’s the spirit, Jamesie!”, Lander said, grinning broadly, and James sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Do me a favour, Lander, and _don’t_ call me ‘Jamesie’ _ever_ again.”

“Okay, okay, how about Jay?”  James scowled, something that Lander seemed to be oblivious to, as he continued in the same light, teasing tone of voice.  “How ‘bout ‘Jimmie’, then?  ...No?  Okay, okay, fine, be like that, I’ll call ya ‘James’... spoilsport…”, the pyro admitted finally, his grin faltering for a second before it returned as he focused on the prospect of alcohol.  “Let’s go, James, there’s a shit-ton of drinks out there with our names on ‘em!  I know _all_ the bars-”

“I’ll bet you do.”, James commented drily, but the other pyro’s facial expression didn’t even flicker.  If anything, Lander’s grin got more broad.

“Oh, that’s a fuckin’ winning bet right there… so what the hell are we still standin’ around here for?!  Let’s move!”  He looked positively thrilled as he pulled James outside, hailing a taxi, and laughing as the cabbie groaned at the sight of him.  “Hello there!  If it isn’t the most fuckin’ asshole cab driver this side of the Pacific!  Take us to Vermont Drive - and don’t ya fuckin’ dare take the long route, I know exactly how much the trip there costs, ya cheating bastard…”  The taxi driver muttered something that sounded vaguely obscene aimed at Lander, but the pyro was beyond noticing it, instead turning to James.  “So, how did _your_ talk go?”

“It went okay.  Only got threatened once.  Kill that RED fucker Mason more - as if it’s _easy_ killing another pyro.  Like I’m slacking off instead of trying to make the most of my respawns out there, don’t wanna test the system too often-”

“Heh, Bree told me Mason told _him_ that you fuckwits still respawn stark naked.”  The mention of that made James blink, surprised enough to completely forget to curse the other man out for calling him and his team ‘fuckwits’.

“What do you mean by that?  You mean you and that Gabriel of yours _don’t_?”

“Hell no we don’t.”, Lander said proudly, stretching in his seat and then looking James over emphatically.  “Bet that’s a sight, nine naked asses on display.”

“Well, I’m not a big fan of the system.  Some men on my team are a little _too_ unfazed by it.”, he said, gritting his teeth and growing quiet.  Lander seemed to sense his unease and spoke up to fill the gap.

“...yeah, well, I’m fuckin’ glad we don’t respawn naked like fuckin’ babies.  Gabriel, too.  His team’s scout, Ron, he’s into that.  Ron… doesn’t even fuckin’ look twice at any of the guys on base.  Straight as his bat.  But a couple of the other guys, like Graeme an’ Chris, or Theo an’ Benj from my team, they’d have a field day.  If we’d respawn in the buff, they’d never do another battle, they’d just screw each other senseless.  An’ Bree and me along with ‘em.  The rest of the teams would be mentally scarred as much as they physically are.  ...And if there would be a girl on either of our teams, hell…  You guys got no girls either?”, he asked, leaning against the taxi door as the driver took a sharp turn to the right, prompting James to nod.

“I don’t think there’s any team that’s got a girl.”

“Oh, don’t be too sure.  I heard tales around BLU about a female pyro, an’ there’s female eggheads too.  Some of the teams that fix our respawn when it glitches out are female techies - engineers, I mean.  Think Grant, the engie for the RED team, bangs one of the female techies, heh...  Hot fuckin’ chicks, brainy too.  If they wanted to fight, they could, I guess.  Man, I’d pay to see it.  I’d _bang_ a female engie.  Hell, it’s not like I didn’t sleep with one of the female techies back in the days before Gabriel, but he’s been with RED… fuck, ‘s it really been three years since he joined RED?  Well, _wow_ …”  The light-haired pyro grinned and suddenly motioned for the street they passed, speaking words that were accompanied by a more serious and profound expression than before, when he’d been speaking about the female engineers.  “Look out there, James.  Look at ‘em all, running around like fuckin’ headless chickens… all they want is to live, an’ here we are, _living_. Living, breathin’.  We know what it’s like to die, an’ that’s why we’re living.  That’s why there’s nothing in the whole fuckin’ world that’s gonna stop us, ever.”  James thought of contradicting him, but found the words flee him as he looked outside.  Because Lander, no matter how drunk or high he had been and still was, was _right_.  The people that walked about looked like they had no idea how harsh dying was, and thus how much they needed to cherish life.  Suddenly, the cab they were in jerked - James fell forward, his head nearly colliding with the headrest of the cab driver’s seat if it weren’t for Lander pressing him back into the seat, shaking his head.  “...Red lights don’t stop ‘em.  Fuckin’ halfwits.  Cabbie should’a run him over, maybe a stint in hospital with two broken legs an’ a busted lung would teach fuckwits like that to take life more seriously and less for granted…”  There was something in Lander’s voice that made James feel suddenly out of his depth, but he shook his head to get rid of the sensation and instead focused on the promise of drinks, no matter who with and no matter what might be on the man’s mind.

The cab pulled up to a bar in a quieter neighborhood of the city, where there weren’t as many people out and about but where the city looked a lot more upscale.  There weren’t any skyscrapers here, only apartment buildings and several regular houses spread in between like freckles - some lights were already off, James noticed as he looked around while Lander paid their cabbie and told him to go fuck himself when the guy told him he should charge him extra for the swearing and the rudeness.  Then, the BLU pyro rounded on him and patted him on the shoulder hard enough to bruise, James mused as he rubbed the painful spot on him.

“So, James, ya ready for a li’l fun?  Let me order us the first round, promise ya it’ll make ya tipsy fast!”

“Okay, one, I don’t need to get tipsy fast, I want to actually _enjoy_ the buzz, you halfwit… and two, you’re only ordering my drinks if Hell freezes over, tosser-”, James said, to which Lander only responded with a soft snicker and an arm wrapping around his shoulders to pull him closer.

“Aww come on, bro, don’t be like that!  Promise ya you won’t get shitfaced from drink one… nah, I know you ain’t like me and Gabe, you don’t need the escape-”

“You and _Gabe_ are addicts.  ‘s He get high off his arse too?”, James asked - he knew he had made a mistake when Lander’s hand on his shoulders tightened and the man’s fingers dug into his upper arm roughly.

“Don’t you fuckin’ talk about Gabriel like that, ya hear, rookie?!  He’s struggling, he doesn’t _wanna_ have the fuckin’ pyromania, and I don’t fuckin’ want it either, and _what the hell do ya even know_ , you half-wit, you ain’t got anything in a year - no drinks, no lays, no drugs, not even a fuckin’ _handjob_!  You get to fuckin’ say that ‘bout me and Bree if _you_ served nearly ten years of goddamn _legal manslaughter_ an’ corporate ass-kissin’.”  Lander’s voice was low and dangerous, and James swallowed the sudden lump that rose in his throat.  Working for the same company or not, the other BLU pyro could kill him with a single hand, he was sure of it - not _all_ of those scars were _self_ -inflicted, after all.  Lander, fortunately, continued in a put-off tone, keeping his chastising verbal instead of moving to physical dissuasion: “‘Sides, I keep the _really_ fucked up shit like my ciggies an’ my pills away from Gabriel.  He’s screwed up enough as it is.  Guy’s a fuckin’-  Oh wait, I am so not tellin’ you shit about Gabe without at least one decent goddamn drink in me.”  He pulled James the remainder of the way into the bar, which turned out to look rather pleasant, just like the neighborhood.  The bartender greeted him as one would greet an old friend, and Lander’s grin grew more genuine alongside the eagerness that alcohol seemed to bring out in the man.  “John, my man, long time no see!  This ‘s James, he’s my fuckin’ protegé for the night - poor sucker’s first year on BLU-”

“New colleague?  Heh, glad to meet ya.  Name’s John Lowerie.  Big fan of BLU.  Maybe I saw ya fight already, don’t know… what team are you on?  Teufort Toughies?  Badlands Bruisers?  Junction Justice Squad?”

“Uhm, I fight on the Twofort base, so-”, James started, and John nodded.

“Teufort Toughies.  Don’t worry, it’s a fan name, it’s not the _company-approved_ name.  On tv, your team are called the ‘BLU Bridge Burners’ and the REDs you fight the ‘RED Rabble Rousers’.  Mann Co. thinks they’re real funny.  ...Ah, Lander, nice of ya to bring a colleague _other_ than your li’l boyfriend-”, the bartender sighed, only for Lander to shake his head.

“One’a these days, John, I’ll stuff that head up yer ass for good for callin’ Bree that, I just _bang_ him, it ain’t like I take him home to mom.  Anyway, make us both two glasses of Honeydew - and just to celebrate Jamesie’s first night outside’a his fuckin’ base in a year, plenty of juice for the both of us, awright?”

“Will do!”, the bartender said, instantly starting to grasp bottles from all across the shelves behind him, something James watched him do apprehensively until Lander pulled him back and turned him around.

“Relax, James, he’s not gonna poison ya… if you really wanna know, a Honeydew’s a cocktail made with vanilla gin, vodka, cream, batida de coco and cuarenta y tres.  Sweet like fuckin’ candy but with a kick.  Drinks like lemonade if ya ignore the taste of the booze.”  It was probably meant to be reassuring, but James merely managed to look shocked, which got Lander to shake his head slowly and then roll his eyes.  “...Anyway, I was tellin’ ya about Gabriel… guy’s a walking psychiatrist’s nightmare.  Pyromania, guilt issues, inferiority complex… depressed as all fuckin’ hell, just like me, but that’s not a big surprise.  He takes two pills a day an’ still he lights shit up.”

“You take pills?”

“Yep, I sure do.  Part of BLU’s conditions was that I had to take SSRI’s for impulse control, otherwise I would’ve lit the entire damn base like a Christmas candle ages ago.  Gabe’s got the same conditions, plus a few extra - he _did_ already light a building up…”  The bartender respectfully waited for Lander to pause to bring the two cocktail glasses over, mixing up the next ones quickly as the two pyros took the proffered glasses and raised them - James didn’t intend to, but Lander gripped his hand and made him mirror the gesture.  “...To BLU, whose paychecks make this debauchery possible; to Gabriel and Mason and their entire team, for bein’ our willing kindle and making us know the meaning of life; but most importantly, to _ourselves_ , may we keep ‘em quaking in their boots for years to come!”  As Lander brought the glass to his lips and downed it in one, James thought about not even drinking the damned cocktail, but he had to admit that the scent of it was alluring  The first sip of it revealed that it indeed tasted as sweet as Lander had mentioned: the taste of vanilla and coconut was overpoweringly present, and the sickly sweetness stuck to his tongue due to the cream present in the mixture.  And if he ignored the taste of liquor that was overpoweringly present in there, it tasted like molten ice cream a little.

“Okay, I have to admit, it doesn’t taste half bad, this… _Honeydew_ thing…”, James said, and Lander’s grin, if possible, doubled in size.

“Oh, James, ya ain’t even tasted _the best_ cocktails!”

 

Five hours later, James Henderson stumbled out of the third bar they’d visited, holding Lander upright next to him just as much as Lander held him upright in turn.  His vision was blurry from the amount of alcohol he’d had, at first as cocktails and then later more straight-up in shots and double-shots. He couldn’t remember most of them, except for a few of the more exotic cocktail names - Honeydew, Fire in the Hole, Green Mystery, though that last one could already be a figment of the alcohol.  Any and all tension he had felt before was now gone

“S-sooo, Jamesie, do you wanna go try more bars?  Or d’you wanna go back to the hotel now,huh?”, Lander asked slowly, his syllables blurring together slightly due to the alcohol making it difficult for him to operate his tongue - or that was what James assumed, since it was like that for him, at least.  He shrugged and contemplated his answer before speaking it.

“T-think there’s still a bar out there that’ll let us in?  Let’s… let’s face it, we are _compleeeeetely hammered_ …”

“Pfeh, this ain’t the most I drank in a night - but well, if ya want to go to the hotel…”  He lit a cigarette, and James instantly felt a nicotine craving hit him unlike any he’d ever felt before.  He held out a hand to Lander, who raised an eyebrow.  “...You want one of my ciggies?  Really?  They’re not right for ya-”

“Oh, _c-come on,_ I bought the last two rounds, the least you can do is give me a smoke, wanker.”, James protested loudly, to which Lander laughed softly and shrugged.

“Okay, ‘s your funeral… here ya go, lit an’ everything!”, the other BLU pyro said, offering James another cigarette from his tiny case that he lit and then offered with the filter towards him.  Grinning, James accepted it and took a deep drag, wincing at the acrid smoke that filled his mouth first, then his lungs, and finally his nostrils as he exhaled.

“Holy farkin’... what is _in_ this thing, _absynth_?”, he said, prompting Lander to shake his head.

“Don’t know what it is, but it’s good, no worries. Been smokin’ these for a year and I’m not dead yet, see?”, he added with a grin, motioning himself over, causing James to snort and then exhale another drag of smoke with a deep sigh.

“Oh, you’re right, they _are_ good…”

“Hah, nothin’ but the quality shit for me, James!  ...heh… s-so, you wanna try another bar?”, Lander suggested, to which James shook his head, feeling light-headed.

“N-not even the hotel bar’s gonna give us more alcohol, La-lander... “  He hiccuped and snorted softly with laughter, stumbling into the wall and then leaning against it for a second to get his bearings again.  “Holy _shit_ , I am _beyond_ drunk… an’ whatever is in th-those cigarettes is _something else_ …  How did you smoke _t-three_ of these and still manage to answer any question before?”  Vaguely, he was aware of Lander’s hand lingering slightly longer than strictly necessary on his hip as his fellow pyro steadied himself off the same wall he was leaning against while he answered.

“Who even fuckin’ _cares?_ Heh, so, rookie, if we don’t go for more bars, what _do_ you wanna do?  Go to a strip club?  Get some bitches in your lap?  Rent a video an’ fap to that?  I could race ya-”

“I’m not doing a bloody _wank-off_ , n-not against _you_ , you f… you fruit.  You’ve probably… prob’ly wanked yourself silly-”, James started, but halfway through the thought seemed laughable enough to just laugh it away and shake his head slowly - he _had_ to shake his head slowly as the world was spinning.  “...Hell, h-how about a strip club?  They… they do happy ends, right?  C-c-can use that.”

“Depends on what ya want, Jamesie - just gettin’ your rocks off?  Sure.  Full-on fuckin’?  No way.  If you want someone underneath ya, you’ll have to get a hooker.”

“...Man…”, James sighed, trying a tentative step towards the end of the street, steadying himself off the wall again after the next step.  “‘s been _ages_ since I last banged anyone… I k-kinda almost understand… you and that blonde giant of yours… what’s-his-name… Gary?  Ariel?”  Lander answered him, grinning for some reason, but James just acknowledged the word that hadn’t registered in his drug-addled brain and continued: “Yeah, him - I kind of a-almost understand h-how you’d let _him_ do whatever you two do… damn, a-any kind of s-sex is… is better than _nothing_ …”

“‘s That so, huh?”

“Y-yeah!  I mean, I wouldn’t…”  James took another drag of the cigarette, surprised to find that it had since been reduced to a stub already - he hadn’t even noticed himself smoke it anymore, and he looked at Lander in surprise.  “...D-did you secretly… did you smoke my cigarette?”

“No, that was all you… want more, huh?”, he asked, and when James nodded, he rolled his eyes.  “Hell, you’re already out of it, rookie.  First, let’s get you to the hotel - then, you can smoke another one and pass out all ya want.  Or _not_ pass out all ya want.”

“Y-you gonna take me back to the hotel?”, James asked, nodding before Lander even managed to answer.  It sounded like a sound idea, going back to the hotel.  “...Yeeeah… s-so… so how-?”  He was interrupted by Lander bringing his fingers to his lips and whistling, loudly and briefly, and somehow a taxi that had been waiting at the end of the street reversed up to them.

“Take us to… uh… the Imperial.  On 5th.”, Lander said, grinning drunkenly at the taxi driver, who rolled his eyes for some reason.

“Try an’ keep it clean, guys?”, he asked - it took James a significant amount of time, during which Lander answered something rude, to process that the man meant not puking.  The taxi was a little more cramped than before, ending Lander up sitting right next to him, lounging against him like they were long-lost buddies.

“Ya were sayin’?”, he asked, grinning and chuckling as the taxi driver hit a speed bump and sent both men hopping in their seat: James, to steady himself, put one hand on the passenger seat in front of him, while Lander placed his hand next to James’ hip, almost under his bottom.  That registered as ‘wrong’ to James but he couldn’t move his body to cooperate.  “You were askin’ me something before, James, my man-”

“Huh?”, James reacted, his brain feeling sluggish and unresponsive due to the combination of alcohol and whatever the cigarette contained that wasn’t nicotine - then, however, one of the electrical pulses made it through and he remembered.  “Y-yeah, how come you got together with one of the RED f-fuckers?  I mean… I mean, no one… none of your team in-int’rested?”   Lander sighed and shrugged, looking outside through the car window for a moment as he answered.

“I… Gabriel just looked miserable one night an’ I asked him about it, to which he confessed that he gets all hot an’ bothered by his team’s very straight scout, Ron, who also happens to be his roommate.  An’ he looked so frustrated that I decided, y’know, to lend a hand.”

“...You ssssaw him one night?  A-an’ neither of ya killed the other?”, James asked, nonplussed.  “F-fu- I mean, if I saw Mason ‘one night’, or he saw me, one of us w-would leave i-in a _bodybag_!  Bloody tosser-”  Lander responded to that in a hushed tone that James didn’t understand a word of until he reacted a little dumbly with ‘whah?’ and his fellow pyro placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Look, rookie, we all work for the same company, we all get paid with the same money, we’re all bein’ screwed over by the same damn woman.  Or who d’you think did Bree’s interview, or Mason’s?”  Faintly, James wondered whether Lander was kidding or not - the other BLU pyro certainly didn’t _look_ like he was kidding.  His gaze was sincere, and when his hand dropped a little, descending from his shoulder to his chest, there was a gleam of lust in it that was just as outright as it was genuine, and James groaned despite the touch of the other man’s hand feeling like a godsend right now.

“D-don’t… don’t look at me like that, you tosser…”

“Like what?”, Lander asked innocently, not moving his hand away, causing James to half-heartedly push at it.  “Aw, you don’t like?”

“L-look… apart from another cigarette, y-you can just… uh… g-go screw that blonde _beanstalk_ you love getting bloody ssss-sod… you love getting it up the b-bloody arse from…”, James said.  Faintly, in a corner of his mind that wasn’t cooperating anymore, he still realized that he’d lost his train of thoughts _twice_ mid-sentence and once _in the middle of a word_ , and he knew that he shouldn’t accept another cigarette, or even anything else, from the man that still hadn’t moved his hand from his chest.  But a haze of alcohol and drugs was apparently enough to make everything warm and mellow, _warm and mellow… warm and mellow, and comfortable…_

“We’re here, Jamesie…”  Lander’s voice seemed to issue from a million miles away suddenly, and the taxi driver’s voice seemed even more distant though his words still registered somewhere in James’ brain.

“Wow, your friend really had _a lot_ to drink.”

“Nah, just shitty tolerance.  Thanks, my man.  Here, keep the change.  Buy yourself somethin’ other than _cheap_ cologne.  ...James, c’mon, man, let’s get you up to your room, awright?”  The BLU pyro meant to protest until strong, calloused hands hoisted him out of the taxi, which then took off seemingly instantly.  His footing was a little less-than-sure but James still found himself leaning against Lander as his fellow pyro navigated the hotel lobby and then the elevator with him, right up to his room.  Slowly, a question bubbled from the murky depths of James’ mind.

“H-how… how d’you… know which room ‘s… ‘s my room?”

“Between the third and the fourth bar, ya gave me your hotel room keycard, remember?”, Lander said, smiling a little woefully at James before the door opened and the both of them stumbled inside.  James had only seen the hotel room for five minutes before his interview - his train had run late and he’d been unfamiliar in the big city, so he hadn’t wanted to risk being late - and now it felt as uninviting as any other room had ever felt to him.  A deep sigh left him before he could stop it - and suddenly, as smoke billowed in front of his eyes, he realized that he’d taken another inhale from a fresh cigarette of Lander’s.  Had he even asked for it?  Slowly, his brain pieced back the past few seconds but came up with blanks.

“Lander… I didn’t ask-”

“You did ask, James.”, his fellow pyro responded, shaking his head and plucking the cigarette back from James’ hand.  “You’re too high, man, c’mon… you can’t even remember askin’ for another ciggie, if ya smoke this one you’ll wake up hallucinatin’ your ass off.  The last pyro to go to a battle test like that got an early retirement-”

“N-no one… no one gets an early retirement…”, James stammered, intending to follow the statement up with saying that the only premature reward the company would hand out was an early tombstone - and a one-way trip underneath it - but he suddenly found his every fibre craving more nicotine, or more alcohol, or more endorphins.  “S-shit, I… Lander, d’you got reglyar… greggyluh… r-regular cigarettes?”, he asked, to which the other pyro shook his head.

“No, sorry - I… d’you want me to go ask Gabe, or Mason-”

“No, I’m smoking Mason’s cigarettes when I have a death wish - and if you go to that Gabriel, he’s keepin’ you.  I k-know what he said to you beffffffore, he wants to keep you u-up until dawn, he doesssss.  ...Hell, c-could do with some of that.”, he said, speaking his mind without any filter, the combination of alcohol, drugs and a general feeling of drowsiness making any inhibition flow from him like water from a sieve.  “...B-been more than a year… since… since I last… got sssssome…  H-hell, ‘s been more t-than a year since I… _got off_ …”

“Holy fuckin’ shit, man, I was… before, with the ‘ya don’t even dare jerk off in the showers’ thing, I was _kiddin’_ , but you really ain’t got-”, Lander reacted, only to get cut off instantly by James again who spoke with the patience and self-restraint of a four-year-old.

“Bloody hell, y-you mind?!  Y-you and your Gabriel… b-buggering each other… m-mindless… you and your… your cigarettes… bloody hell, they are amazing, c-can I-”  He reached for the still-smoking cigarette that Lander held in his hands - the other pyro moved it away and shook his head, to which James reacted with a half-sob and a sorrowful continuation: “I m-mean… w-what I wouldn’t give… just one… just _once_ … j-just… fuck it, I… maybe go… call me… s-someone… I need someone…”

“You… want me to call ya a hooker, man?”, Lander asked, sounding faintly amused, James noted, but nowhere near as horrified as anyone else he’d ever known would sound at the thought, and he sighed.

“Y-yeah, well, my cock i-isn’t going to blow _i-itself_ , is it?”  Vaguely, he was aware of being moved, though his eyes seemed to have temporarily closed - when he mustered the strength to open them again, Lander was gone, and his pants were off, his privates exposed to the cold and slightly humid air of his room and the bedsheets feeling equally cool and soft underneath his bottom.  And then, aided by a haze of alcohol and drugs that he didn’t care to identify anymore, he felt a scarred hand close around his member, stroking him with just the right amount of pressure in all the right places, and he groaned.  “Oh _b-bloody hell,_ darling, y-you… oh _blow me_ , you’re fuckin’ _awesome at this…_ ”

“Heh, thanks… oh, you’re real fuckin’ fine, aren’t ya?”  Vaguely, James knew that something was wrong - the voice was too deep, the hand too secure, the situation too tense… but then another squeeze of the hand around his length had the BLU pyro throw his head back and thrust up roughly into that hold.

“ _Oh yeah, r-re-really great, darling… bloody… fffffinish me riiiiight off…_ S-shit… _blow me_ …”, he ground out, and the answer came within a heartbeat.

“Since ya ask so nicely, Jamesie…”  The hand’s tight grip was released, and then chapped lips wrapped around his erection, going down with secure expertise that had James gripping the bedsheets to steady himself.  “ _Mmmmhmm…_ ”, came the low, rumbling moan muffled around his length - the vibration that caused had the British pyro thrust halfheartedly up into the warmth and wetness surrounding his member, getting rewarded by another moan, which settled him into a rhythm of steadily more fleshed-out thrusts.  At that point, any notion that this was _not_ a hooker getting him off were far from James’ mind, replaced by the pleasure that was only heightened by the dizzying rush of alcohol and the buzz of the unknown narcotics that Lander had provided him with amply.

“Oh _C-chriiiiist,_ y-you take it s-so goddamn well… mmm, s-suck my cock, baby… I am s-so close…”  Release hit him unexpectedly, causing him to convulse and shiveringly thrust as deeply as his partner for the moment would take him.  “Christ in heaven, t-that… oh, god, that was _amazing…_ ”

“Want more?  I can teach ya things, James…  B-bet you’ll love it…”  A vague, distant, almost nonexistant and certainly irrelevant corner of James’ mind suddenly realized, with crystal clarity, who was speaking the suggestion; the rest of the BLU pyro’s brain, however, was completely taken over by the residual pleasure of getting a blowjob, and he nodded.

“G-god, yeah… oh baby, give me all you got- _ahhhh Jesus!_ ”, he gasped when the chapped lips migrated from his length to his scrotum, each kiss and nip they indulged in setting his nerves alight like a forest fire.  Near-white shoulder-length hair and a throaty laugh were imprinted on his brain amidst the onslaught of joy, tension grew once again, and he suddenly found himself sitting on hands and knees, with the tongue of his partner for the moment laving over his sphincter and he was _miles high_ , barely aware of the remainder of his body anymore.  All he’d become was tension and heat, fire and steel, an angel, _a scion of rapture_.  “ _Christ, oh shit… b-baby…_ n-nooooo, got to… you need to…  I wanna fill you up, love, want to… uhh… want to _fill you ‘til you burst-_ ”

“Think you can still manage to ride me?  Okay then, Jamesie…”  There was a slick, slippery hand stroking him, and then he found himself gripping his partner’s hips with hands that felt like they were raw and pulsing, going hard.  Finally, his partner devolved into gasps and moans as well instead of half-mocking sentences - James had lost any attention for the sounds the other party made, feeling his body resonate with nervous energy.  The alcohol, the drugs, the indulgent haze of sex, the pure mindlessness of it all… he should be passed out, and he faintly wondered why he still _hadn’t_ passed out, but instead he was roughly fucking the submissive, pliant body that rocked back into every hard and unremittant thrust he gave.  And he _didn’t care_.  He didn’t know who she was, he didn’t know how she got here, he didn’t even know how much he’d paid her: his life was swallowed in bursts of sensations, light and sound and pressure and heat in all the right places… and then, a loud and almost bestial howl sounded and it was like a television set plug being pulled.

 

“...Ugh… m-my head…”  The next morning, James woke from light falling into his eyes, with a headache that felt like he’d been sat on by an elephant.  A quick sniff of the air around him had him add an even more reviling sentence: “ _Ugh, the hell…_ ”  The room smelled like he’d been shat on by an elephant: the stink of sweat and dried semen, the slightly pungent smell of urine, a hint of something unfamiliar and acrid in the air and the sickly-sweet scent of booze and dried vomit hit his nose all at once, and he winced, walking up to the window slowly and throwing it wide open to allow fresh air inside.  “Good _Lord_ , what did I even get up to?”  He ambled to the bathroom, rinsed his mouth, and then found himself falling to his knees as his stomach lurched milliseconds before his entire stomach contents and then some rushed out of his mouth in thick, strong waves.  “Fuckin’ hell…”, he mumbled, rinsing his mouth again and brushing his teeth, trying to shake off the remaining stupor from the night before.  He remembered Lander, and drinking, but after that things became blurry and his memory had large, gaping holes in it.  Lander had called a taxi for them, there had been those cigarettes of his - had he smoked one, or had that been the other BLU pyro? - and at some point in the evening, he’d gotten to his room and had talked to Lander.  After that, he had vague memories of a hooker with light blonde hair and a hoarse, luxurious laugh.  “...Jesus, what did I get up to with her?”, he said as he stepped into the shower and allowed the water to rinse him off, showing that his manhood had been covered in dried bits of excrement.  “...How the hell did I ever get the idea to go for _anal_ of all things?  ...Meh, maybe she was having nature’s nuisance - shit beats blood, I might’ve thought my cock got chopped off!”, he said with a snort, his good humor improving again the cleaner he felt and the better it smelled around him.  After a vigorous yet short shower, he put on fresh clothes and walked down the stairs, to get breakfast.  The room was almost empty - the surly BLU pyro just left as he entered, looking at him with just as much empathy as the previous day, which was fine by him, but there was someone else sitting at the table that he thought looked familiar.

“...Hey, are you with the company too?”, he asked, and the person turned around to look at him: once he understood who he was, however, the man’s surprise turned to firm dejection.

“You’re with BLU, no?”, he asked in a thick accent - before James could do anything but nod, the other person spoke with more vehemence: “Moenie probeer en fok met my, donnerse idioot!  I’m not with _your_ company!  Nou gaan weg en praat met jou eie mense!”

“Yeah, well, _fuck you too_ , you RED tosser.”, James said with a rude gesture tacked on for emphasis, stalking off to the other side of the breakfast room, watching as a grey-haired grouse of a man with the telltale tan-lines of an engineer’s goggles joined the one he’d just talked to, exchanging a few words before they both cast him a look of loathing.  Then, however, Lander entered the breakfast room, and James found he actually preferred the way the RED pyro had looked at him to the way his fellow BLU pyro avoided looking at him altogether.  Clearly he’d behaved so badly the previous evening that someone as debauched as Lander couldn’t bear to meet his gaze… but he couldn’t remember what it was he’d done that was so horrible.  However, Lander was joined by his lover, the tall blonde pyro from RED that he’d been all over the previous night, and they had a short but heated discussion before they both left together, clearly going off to work out some frustration, and James mused that maybe Lander hadn’t exactly called the hooker just for him.  Gabriel - his name _was_ Gabriel, he remembered - probably wasn’t too pleased that Lander had spent his previous night two-timing him with a woman, that probably was the reason for his frustrated look.  Snorting, James dug into his breakfast - toast with butter that tasted horrible, and fruit juice that smelled and tasted like stale piss, yet it was still better than some of the breakfasts he’d had on the base.  Groaning softly, he got up, only to find a large, calloused and heavily scarred hand push him back down onto his chair, before the giant of a RED pyro sat down in front of him, looking like he’d just been through a thunderstorm.  The scent of something sweet as well as the sharp odor of hard liquor hung around him much like the scent of aftershave had hung around his foul-tempered RED colleague from before, and his glare matched the man’s even though he looked slightly intoxicated.  James faintly remembered that Lander’s interview had been about his lover and his many addictions as well, and that he’d mentioned that Gabriel didn’t like him cutting himself, which made him feel suddenly apprehensive.

“Can I _help_ ya, mate?”, he asked, and the pyro snorted.

“Tais-toi, connard.  I don’t know what ya didn’t understand last night about staying the hell off’a Lander, espèce d’imbécile, but you’ve got exactly _ten seconds_ to give me one good reason to _not_ to punch your lights out right damn here and right damn _now_.”  He cracked his knuckles, which got James to groan and straighten on his chair.

“Look, you tosser, I don’t know what you think I did with your fuck-friend, but I _didn’t_.  I got wasted ‘cause of him, I got fucked up ‘cause of him, and he probably sicked a crackhead hooker on me last night, but other than that I haven’t got a damn clue what happened-”

“Pfeh, yeah, right, t’pense que j’crois ça ou quoi?!  Ya think I’m buyin’ your ‘all we did was get wasted’ - _you fucked him_ , you idiot, he tasted like your ugly dick when I kissed him, bet ya _loved_ it too!”, Gabriel interrupted, and James shook his head, getting up from his chair, which fell back with a loud clatter that the BLU pyro paid no heed to anymore, angry as he was at being accused falsely.

“Look, you cock-whoring arsehole, how many times do I have to say it for it to get through that thick bleedin’ skull?  _I didn’t!_ I’m not like you and him, I don’t go hunting to get my arse reamed - besides, I had a hooker, not your idiot friend!  I think I can tell the difference between that wanker’s arse and a woman’s!”  He turned around and made to walk away, only for a hand to close on his shoulder again.  “Ugh, _how many more times-_ ”

He was met with a fist colliding with his face, causing a fireburst of pain to explode in his head and knocking him out instantly.

 

When he came around again, his head smarted like it had been split open - which, judging by the thick layer of bandages wrapped around his head and jaw, might have been the case - and he saw the somewhat dour southerner that was his team’s engineer.

“K-kevin?  The hell are you doing here?”, he asked hoarsely, causing his teammate to look him over in surprise before sighing.

“Son, don’t yew worry ‘bout me bein’ here.  We’re short a pahro.  Now that yeh’re back with us, they kin rule out limited brain capacity, that oughta git ‘em tuh heal y’up an’ ship yeh back tuh base-”

“W-wait a minute, you mean I’m not on the base?”, James asked, looking around and noticing that it indeed didn’t look like the base’s medbay, most notably because it looked clean and because it was silent.  The base was a lot of things, but the words ‘dingy’ and ‘decrepit’ came to mind rather than ‘professional’ - or even ‘pseudo-professional’.  Kevin shook his head and snorted.

“Maybe they _can’t_ rule out brain damage jus’ yet… yew r’member how yeh got here, James, son?”, he asked, looking utterly amused, causing James to rack his brain but come up with a huge blank.

“...Not a clue.  The last I remember, I arrived at BLU HQ.  For the evaluation.  Then… nothing.”

“Yeah, must’a been one helluva talk yew had with the ol’ lady.  Yeh been out fer a week-”

“ _One bloody week?!_ ”, James said loudly, wincing the next second and prompting Kevin to snort.

“Yeah, ah took a li’l peek at yer medical chart an’ boy, ah don’t know _who_ yeh pissed off, but it ain’t no good idea tuh do that again.  Yeh had a broken nose, a broken jaw, seven broken ribs, cracks in yer eyesockets, a broken arm, two broken legs, one’a which had _compound_ fractures, a busted lung, a tear in yer spleen… hell, son, name whut yeh got inside’a yeh an’ it got smashed.  D’yeh remember if’n tha’ happened in the battle part’a the eval or…?”, the engineer asked, which had James think again.  He remembered some vague impression of a guy with an angry face, messy blonde hair and a goatee…

“...There was a guy, I think he was RED… but I have no idea when or where…”

“Yeah, an’ we ain’t never gonna know.  BLU HQ’s been real tight-lipped ‘bout ev’rything, son - but ah got tuh talkin’ ‘bout yeh with one’a the interns, an’ she let slip that apparently the RED pahro that got yeh intuh this ‘ere hospital, got intuh trouble ‘imself.  Feller by the name’a Gabriel Dantan-”  That name rang a bell to James, but it made his head hurt enough to get him to fall back into the pillow.  “...Yeah, yew rest fer now, son - yeh’re gon’ be healed up right an’ quick now that yeh’re back.  Yeh’re needed back at base-”, the engineer said, causing James to remember that the man had said they were a pyro short at the battlefield.

“How’s it going in Teufort, then?”

“Mason thinks he’s th’Angel’a Death incarnate ‘gain - roasted Bernard when he tried tuh demolish tha’ airhead Eric’s sentry… yeah, it ain’t been real good fer BLU with yew gone an’ Mason back.  Asshole came back _giddy_ too - tha’ RED motherfucker ‘at got yew in here must’a boasted ‘bout it.”

“That fucking… next year, I’ll do him in, the wanker!!”, James growled, and Kevin grinned at him.

“That’s the spirit, James - ah’m callin’ in the doctors, tell ‘em tuh fix y’up quick as they can so yew kin prepare by offin’ Mason.”  James nodded, suddenly feeling ready for the somewhat painful process of post-battle healing, fully intent on committing every second of agony to memory so he could dole out an equal and surpassing amount to his RED counterpart later - and the next year to the man that had been the cause of it…

 

* six years later *

 

James Henderson didn’t like it one bit.  After years of getting solitary evaluations and performing battle tests against one of the company’s other pyros, this was the first time he’d get to meet some fellow pyros from the competition again, something he’d been hoping for... but he hadn’t bargained on a) having to share the train compartment with Jarrod ‘Scarface’ Dangerfeld, his opponent from RED, or b) the second ‘set’ of pyros of their three-base group both being _female_ and _completely uninteresting_.  Sure, the latina looked remotely beautiful - even if the fact that her eyebrows were permanently singed off was unsettling - but the woman she was with…

“What’re you staring at, you feckin’ British piece of shite?!”, Eileen Reilly snapped, aiming a glare at him.  The first year of fighting another BLU pyro had him pitted against the Turbine base’s surly-looking Patrick Loriat, but then he’d died in battle and they’d replaced him with _her_.  She was only twenty-three when she’d started, barely more than a little girl complete with twin blonde pigtails and freckles all over her face, but she was _fierce_ and _painfully good_ with her Axtinguisher and her Phlogistinator, both of which he’d been intimately introduced with.  And, of course, the woman had turned out to be Irish with a burning hatred of anything and everything British, which at least gave him an excuse to hate her in return.  A woman on the battlefield-  “ _Quit your bloody staring!!_ ”, she hissed, only for Jarrod, of all people, to pat her arm gently and apprehensively.

“Amiga, don’t pay attention to him, he’s-”

“I know what he is, Dangerfeld, and _don’t put your paws on me_!”, she said, pulling her arm away from him and making James grin vindictively.  If she had _one_ redeeming feature, it was that she’d hated Jarrod from the very second she’d laid eyes on him.

“Bueno _perdón, princesa_!”, he said, and now the latina woman interrupted, putting one hand on either of the arguing pyro’s shoulders.

“Amigos, let’s not argue.  Jarrod just wants us all to get along, Ail’... and I can’t say he’s wrong, the train arrives in five minutes and how are Gabriel and Sam going to like us arguing in front of them?”  Now, James definitely perked up.  Six years had made his memory even more spotty than it already was, but the reason for the pyro evaluations being changed up was the man she’d mentioned, Gabriel Dantan.  Sam, however… that wasn’t a familiar name.  He hadn’t seen any Sams in the waiting room during last year’s evaluation - only Eileen had been there, making him wonder where the other pyros were being kept.  Jarrod grinned.

“Oh, _Gabriel_ won’t care, the cabrón lives and breathes swearwords-”

“ _Ugh, don’t remind me, Dangerfeld_!”, Eileen said, turning ostensibly away from him.  Then, however, she smiled and turned back to the latina.  “Teresa, remember three months ago?  The press event?”

“Oh, you did a _press event_?”, Jarrod asked, prompting Teresa to nod and James to snort and turn away as they discussed the company having organized a Q &A session with both RED and BLU teams where they’d held up the illusion of enmity by hosting them at opposite ends of the city.  Then, however, just as they got to Sam and how they’d met the new BLU pyro, the train slowed down and the three other pyros fell silent, looking outside and pointing at the platform, prompting James to look outside as well but see nothing special.  Of course, he mused as he picked up his bag as well and walked out a good ten feet behind Jarrod and the two ladies, he didn’t know who he was looking for, and they _did_.

“James, don’t get lost here, _Eileen_ rented the car to drive you around and she doesn’t like you-”, the latina pyro said, giving him a kind smile that he reacted to with a snort.

“Well, I don’t like _Sinéad_ either, so…”

“Don’t be like that.”, the woman said mournfully before turning around and rushing forward, catching up to his fellow BLU pyro and grabbing her hand as they discussed something in hushed whispers, prompting James to turn his spite onto Jarrod next, seeing as his enemy had been so foolish to slow down enough to walk beside him.

“What’re you trying for, Dangerfeld, a _messier death_?”

“Oh, believe me, pendejo, I’m not here ‘cause I like ya.  I’m here to tell ya _not_ to mess with us - not me, not the ladies, an’ not Gabriel an’ his colleague.”

“What do _you_ care about them?”, James asked, and Jarrod gripped his arm painfully hard, looking him dead in the eye.

“It’s called being a _human being,_ gilipollas, _try it_ someday-”, he said, meaning to speak on until he got interrupted.

“Jarrod, mon ami!”  Instantly, Jarrod’s dead-serious expression softened into a grin of devilish proportions and promise, and he walked over to the tallest man James had seen to date, dwarfing even his team’s sniper.

“Gabriel, amigo, good to see ya!”  Suddenly, James saw the man from six years prior, barely recognizing him anymore - sure, he’d looked six years younger, but he also had looked a lot less troubled, and his hands hadn’t looked as scarred as they did now. Though his grin mirrored Jarrod’s to a fault, showcasing what kind of friendship it was they shared, causing James to snort in frustration.  He meant to walk away, only Jarrod was standing right in his way, lazily exchanging pleasantries with the blonde giant of a pyro, and after a few seconds of ineffective glaring, he snapped at his enemy.

“Look, would you bloody move, Dangerfeld?! It's bad enough I have to stand here listening to you-”  Three pairs of eyes fastened on him in a glare, and Eileen was the first to speak up to introduce him.

“Oh yes, and this is James Handerson. He is Jarrod's BLU counterpart, and he's a lot... more professional. He wants to kill Jarrod if he gets the chance to get away with it, but so far he's managed to contain himself, unfortunately.”  There was faint recognition in the tall RED pyro’s eyes, but he didn’t insult or threaten him, so James guessed that his memory was faded after six years as well.

“Sinéad here's right-”

“Éist suas, leathcheann! How many goddamn times, my name is Eileen, piece of British shite!”  The reaction was instant and vehement, which had been the effect James had been aiming for, but then, his attention was drawn by the fifth member of the group, the only one that James hadn’t seen before.

“Mister Handerson, a pleasure to meet you. Samantha Tennant, your colleague from another dustbowl.” She stood proud, and she was stunningly gorgeous: athletic, curvaceous, with a winner’s smile.  And just like him, she was from England, the accent giving her away instantly.  Whatever anger and resentment James had been feeling vanished into thin air.

“...Oh, you're from Sussex?”

“Born, raised, and nearly incinerated, yes. Since none of my ever-so-charming colleagues seems to feel like introducing you further, I'll just assume that they did and that they said you're every bit as pleasant as they are.”  James was oblivious to the others by that point but got reminded of their presence when she mentioned them, causing him to snort.

“...Hmph, yeah, let's assume.”  He couldn’t believe his luck: this woman was a dream come true.  She definitely wasn’t anything like Eileen, and her smile promised so much…  “...So, miss Tennant-”

“Call me Sam – I don't like being referred to by last name only, mister Handerson.”, she interrupted, causing him to smile back at her.

“James.”, he offered, extending his hand for her to shake, which she did with little reservations.  Faintly, he was aware of the strength in her hands, showing that she would be more than capable at her job - but mostly, her sparkling green eyes and her alluring smile had his mind hazy.  He resolved to get at least one night with her, to see whether just how well she could fulfill the promises her smile made.  No matter what the cost.


End file.
